


The Sirens Of Latibær Bay

by meltycity_midnightsky



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, F/F, F/M, Family Shenanigans, Friendship, Gen, Human Rottenella, M/M, Mermaid Sportacus, Mermaid Stephanie, Mermaid Ziggy, Ratings: G, Romantic Comedy, adults are useless, kids have to do everything, mermaid au, vaguely little mermaid-esque
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltycity_midnightsky/pseuds/meltycity_midnightsky
Summary: Robert G. Rotten, a robotics engineer of great prowess and little funds, jumps at the opportunity to work for the Whale Of A Catch fishing company. He and his daughter, Ella, move to the small town of Latibær in Maine, ready for their new, hopefully more prosperous, life. However, when a fishing boat catches something very pink and very unexpected in its net, the hapless engineer isn't prepared for how the blue, blond and very angry thing that roars up out of the water would turn his life upside-down.





	1. A Whale Of A Job!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie becomes another cog in the relentless machine of capitalism. Ella gets a new nickname. There is heavy-handed foreshadowing. Sporto is Best MerDad 10/10 100%.

"I'm going to put this simply, Father- you need to get _laid_."

Robbie choked on his coffee. "Wha-ha- _haaaat?!_ " he wheezed. "E-Ella, you can't just- where- where did you even  _learn_ what that  _MEANT?!_ "

Ella, sitting across from him at the kitchen table, rolled her eyes. "I'm in junior _high_ , Father- you won't believe half of what these children are spouting. But my point still stands. You-" she pointed at him- "need to, as they say,  _score_ with somebody."

She sipped her tea daintily, as if she wasn't an eleven-year-old who had just told her father to have sex.

_"Ella!_ " Robbie protested. "We just  _moved_ here, you can't expect me to-"

"No, no- hear me out," Ella interrupted, putting down her lavender teacup. "You are an adult who experiences both sexual attraction and libido. Most of your time is spent in the workplace or caring for me, which leaves you little time to pursue a sexually active lifestyle. Additionally, I've noticed that you've been more tense lately- presumably because of the move. Sexual intercourse does wonders for stress levels, I've heard."

Robbie winced. "Would you  _please_ stop saying the word 'sexual'?"

Ella tilted her head at him. "Well, what would you prefer me to use?"

"I would  _prefer_ you to  _STOP TALKING ABOUT SEX!!_ " he spluttered. "We- we're not even unpacked yet- I have enough to worry about without tracking down a stepfather for you, too."

"Oh, I don't want a stepfather," Ella said matter-of-factly. "I just think you should get--"

"STOP!" Robbie shouted. "Stop stop stop- let's just stop talking about this, okay?!"

Ella rolled her eyes again. "Very well, Father," she said, raising her teacup to her lips. Robbie thought he heard her mutter something that sounded like ' _pussy_ '. "Excuse me,  _what_ was that?!" he demanded. "Nothing," she replied, taking a prolonged sip of tea.

There was awkward silence. Ella put down her cup and picked at her eggs, while Robbie added more sugar and creamer to his coffee and downed it in several long gulps. As he was reaching for the coffeepot, Ella said, "You shouldn't drink so much of that stuff. You're going to have a heart attack."

Robbie wrinkled his nose at her and poured himself another cup. "Whatever," he muttered. 

More silence. Ella poked her eggs with a fork, flipping them over to reveal that they were burned black on the underside. "Eurgh," she said. Robbie looked up. "Oh- yeah, we need a new frying pan," he apologized. 

"I doubt the pan is the problem," Ella said under her breath. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a horrible cook," he sighed. "It's not  _my_ fault you don't want doughnuts or something like a normal kid."

"If I'm going to be the youngest  _étoile_  in history, I can't eat junk for every meal like  _you_ do, Father," she told him. "Sometimes I wonder how you're even still alive."

"Spite," he told her. "Spite and lots of coffee."

Ella nodded. "The former, at least, I can agree with," she said, and raised her teacup in a little toast. "To spite."

"To spite," Robbie agreed, raising his mug in answer.

* * *

 

 By the time Ella had been bundled out of the door with her backpack and a map of the town, Robbie was running late. By the time he caught the bus, he was  _very_ late.

Jammed between several strangers, he couldn't help but ponder what Ella had said. 

Privately, he had harbored- heh,  _harbored_ \- a few fantasies about rugged sailors, and was a little disappointed when he saw that the crews of the local fishing boats were hardly fantasy material. Most were older than he expected 'able-bodied' sailors to be, and all, to say the least, not very friendly. Or possibly just not very intelligent.

The bus ground to a stop, and the driver announced over the intercom, " _Appleseed an' Fifth- home of the Whale Of A Catch research facility._ "

Robbie pushed his way to the door and stumbled out.

He was standing on an empty street lined with battered wooden buildings that all looked very abandoned. Boards stuck out at odd angles, and strips of duck-egg blue paint littered the ground.

Something glinted in a gap between two of the houses. He blinked, but it was still there. 

Curious, he approached, wary of rabid raccoons or some other horrible Latibær-exclusive hazard.

The gap was about two abreast, dark and somewhat dank. The smell of fermenting fruit drifted out, and he crinkled his nose in distaste. As he was about to give up and turn back, the sun emerged from behind a thick layer of clouds, sending a ray of light directly into the gap. As if written by some heavy-handed screenwriter, a wooden statue was illuminated.

 

The statue was of a merman, tall and proud, tail supported by a spray of water. One hand clasped a trident, while the other extended forward as if offering aid. The glint Robbie saw was from a large piece of faceted glass embedded in the chest, about the size of a quarter. 

" 'Ey, you there," a voice creaked from behind Robbie. "City slicker."

Robbie yelped and jumped around. 

A small, elderly Asian man with a pronounced squint in one eye, fluffy white muttonchops, and sunburnt skin stood behind him. He wore an oversized windbreaker and a caved-in mariner's cap. "Don't be messin' about the siren there," he warned. " 'E won't like it none."

Robbie looked around, then gestured to the statue. "You- you mean this?"

The old man nodded. "Aye, that's the one. Raises storms, 'e does, when he gits disturbed- an' strikes all the fish with scale rot if'n he doesn't get 'is apples."

" _Grandpa!_ " another voice scolded. An Asian girl in a red puffy jacket with three messy pigtails hurried over.

"Stop hassling the new guy," she said, grabbing the old man's arm. "He just got here, and he doesn't have time to listen to your silly stories. None of those things about the siren are true," she informed Robbie. "He doesn't make  _storms_ \- and he  _definitely_  doesn't give  _scale rot_." She crinkled her nose, as if the words 'scale rot' had a nasty odor. "Don't worry, mister. My grandpa's just kinda set in his ways, but you don't have to be scared of the siren! He actually  _helps_  people- just like a superhero!" 

She grinned.

"Well, uh," Robbie said, "mermaids aren't real, so I don't really have anything to worry about either way."

The girl and her grandfather exchanged a  _look_. "Uh, he's not a  _mermaid,_ " she informed Robbie. "He's a  _siren_. Well, actually, I guess he's a mer _man_ -"

 

"Quiet, fingerling," her grandfather said sharply. "You modern folks- only believin' what you read in the science books. There are some things ya can't learn in school.  _I_  seen 'im, I did, right when the storm hit. All in gold 'e was, wieldin' his spear, his heart ablaze like the lightnin'. He struck me down with a single blow-"

"You fell an' hit your head on a  _box_ ," the child complained. "And then he towed your boat to shore!"

The old man shook his head wearily. "You children are too trustin' these days- always thinkin the best o' people. I tell you, the only reason I'm alive today--"

"Is because you gave him enough apples, I know, I know," the child interrupted, rolling her eyes and putting her hands in her pockets. "But the siren helps  _everybody_! He doesn't  _care_  about the apples- and he doesn't wear gold anymore, Grandpa, he's  _blue_  now."

 

The old man tugged on one of the girl's messy pigtails, making her wince. " _OW!_  Grandpa--"

"You need to get these silly ideas outta your head, girl," the man admonished her. "If'n you ever wanna be a sailor, you gotta be wary of the sirens. They ain't yer friends, and they  _ain't_  no superheroes."

The girl snorted, extracting her pigtail from the old man's grip. "Yeah, whatever, Grandpa," she huffed. "I don't even  _wanna_  be a sailor."

Robbie backed away slowly as the pair continued to argue. When he reached a safe distance, he turned and bolted away. It wasn't long before he had to stop, huffing and puffing like he'd just run a mile instead of half a block.

When he caught his breath, he looked up to see a squat concrete building looming over him, sitting at the top of a small hill. A weatherbeaten mural of a cartoonish blue whale wearing a red bow tie leered down at him from the wall. The whale was jumping over a rainbow in a pink sea. In the background, a yellow sun smiled magnanimously as a flying shoal of fish leapt into a can. Presumably they were very excited about being eaten.

A long set of stairs zigzagged across the hill, leading up to where the grinning whale beckoned.

Robbie groaned, hiked his messenger bag higher onto his shoulder, and started to climb.

 

* * *

 

The small mermaid slithered along the sand, zipping from seaweed thicket to rock cluster. Despite her bright pink scales and hair, she was surprisingly stealthy. A pair of chatting merfolk drifted by, and she flattened herself against the seabed, holding her breath. When she was sure she hadn't been spotted, she darted into some bubble grass by a large stone arch. This arch was the only visible opening in the rough stone wall that surrounded the submarine town.

She poked her head out from the hedge, ears pricking as she scanned the area for any prying eyes. Satisfied, she jumped out of the bush and, with a flick of her tail, was through the arch. Almost immediately, she collided head-on with something large and solid.

 Shaking her head, she looked up. Giving her sweetest, most innocent smile, she clasped her hands behind her back demurely. "Hi, Papa..."

The merman she had collided with was all muscle, with a mop of blond hair and a thin black mustache. His tail was pale blue, with streaks of darker blue running down the sides like racing stripes, and his fintips were orange.

He wore a dark blue vest, silver-and-blue bracers, and a pale blue scarf wrapped around his waist. A golden circlet glittered on his forehead, and his vest was held shut with a large oblong brooch. A golden trident was strapped to his back.

He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow and looking down at her sternly. However, his blue eyes twinkled, and his lips quirked upwards at the corners, ruining the effect somewhat.

"Hi, Stephanie," Prince Sportacus Íþróttaálfurinn the Tenth said, flicking his tail. "Care to explain what you were doing?"

Stephanie twirled a lock of hair. "Oh, nothing really... just going....  ummm... out for a swim!"

The eyebrow crept further towards Sportacus's hairline. "Oh?"

"Yeah!" Stephanie nodded earnestly. "You know, it's nice to get some fresh water every now and then- and the moonreeds should be flowering soon, right? I thought it'd be nice to gather some so they can bloom right in our house-"

 

_"STEPHANIE! STEPHANIE!_ "

Stephanie groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Oh,  _no,_ " she groaned, as Sportacus's face broke into a wide grin.

A small, blond merboy with a chubby green tail was speeding towards them. He wore a dark blue tunic and a short red cape, fastened with a golden brooch. "Oh, Stephanie, I'm glad I caught you!" he panted excitedly. "I'm ready to go, I got my treasure-hunting sack-" he brandished a burlap sack- "and I ate lots and lots of kelproot this morning so I'll have lots of energy and not get tired halfway there like last--"

He trailed off, floating to a stop. Sportacus smirked down at him. "Hi, Ziggy," he said.

Ziggy awkwardly hid the sack behind his back. "Oh, uh... Hi, Papa..."

"So," Sportacus continued, "were you going out on a swim with Stephanie, Ziggy?"

"Huh?" Ziggy asked. "No- we were going out treasure-hunt..."

 

Stephanie made several frantic hand motions at him, and his eyes widened. "Oh! Uh, I mean, of  _course_  I was going on a swim with Stephanie, Papa! Honest!"

"Oh, really?" Sportacus said, tilting his head. "So you  _weren't_  going treasure-hunting by the harbor?"

Stephanie and Ziggy shook their heads frantically. 

" _Reeeeeally_?" Sportacus asked, leaning forward. 

Stephanie and Ziggy nodded.

"Promise?" Sportacus asked.

Stephanie nodded, but Ziggy's lip quivered, and he sniffled. 

Suddenly, he started wailing. 

" _I'M SORRY, PAPA!"_  he sobbed. "Me an' Stephanie  _were_  going treasure-hunting- I- I- I'm sorry!"

Stephanie put her face in her hands again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Ziggy," Sportacus said hurriedly, gathering Ziggy in his arms. "I'm not mad, it's okay."

Ziggy hiccuped, scrubbing his eyes with his pudgy fists. "You- you're not?" he quavered. 

"Of  _course_  not!" Sportacus said earnestly. "I'm very proud of you for telling the truth, Ziggy. And it's okay to go treasure-hunting- you just have to  _tell_  me or Grandpa first. Okay?" 

He turned and looked pointedly at Stephanie, who looked down and put her hands behind her back again, ears drooping.

Ziggy nodded. "Okay, Papa..." 

"But the tides are changing now," Sportacus continued, gently bouncing Ziggy up and down in his arms, "and it's too dangerous for little guppies outside the walls. So why don't we go later, huh?"

Ziggy's ears perked up, and the fins beneath them flared. "You mean you'll come  _with_  me?!" he asked excitedly. 

"Of course!" Sportacus laughed, giving him a big hug. "And one day you'll be strong enough to go  _all_  by yourself, as long as you eat lots of kelproot, and get  _plenty_  of exercise. Just like Stephanie!"

Stephanie looked up. "Wait- does that mean- I can still go?!"

"Yes," Sportacus told her, reaching over and ruffling her hair, "As long as you be  _extra_  careful about the tides, and don't go too close to the harbor. Okay?"

_"Yay!_ " Stephanie squealed, launching herself at Sportacus and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Papa!"

She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, oh!" Ziggy said excitedly. "Bring back something for me, huh?! Something nice and shiny!"

"No problem!" Stephanie chirped, flicking her tail and zooming out of the gate. "Bye, Ziggy! Bye, Papa! Thank you!"

"Be careful, Stephanie!" Sportacus called back after her. "Stay safe! I love you!"

Stephanie twisted around and waved, then turned, and with a final shimmer of pink, she was gone.

Sportacus watched her go, smiling peacefully.

That peace was interrupted when Ziggy tugged on his mustache. 

"Ah,  _ow_!" he said, wincing. "Ziggy-"

"What are we gonna do  _now_ , Papa, huh?! What are we gonna do  _now_?!" Ziggy demanded. "Oh  _please_ , let's do something fun until Stephanie gets back!"

Sportacus gently removed Ziggy's hands from his mustache. "Hmmm," he said, tapping his chin. "How about... we go visit Grandpa Íþró?"

"Ohh,  _yeah!!_ " Ziggy exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Do you think he could teach me how to- how to _jump_  out of the water, like you do, Papa? It's  _so cool_  when you do that!"

"Of course!" Sportacus laughed. "If you put your mind to it and believe in yourself,  _anything_  is possible."

He set off towards the shining towers of the palace.

* * *

 

When Ella walked into the school building, kids stopped and stared. Apparently, the arrival of a new student was so rare as to warrant points and whispers. She ignored them, stopped by the office to pick up her classroom assignments and schedule, and made her way to homeroom.

Taking her seat as far back as she could, she arranged her school supplies- all purple- on the desk, then sat with her hands clasped in front of her.

The whispers and stares continued until the bell rang, then there was a loud shuffling to get into desks and pull out papers.

The door opened, and the teacher- a short, stout woman with piles of steel blue hair, clad in a rather unflattering yellow dress- bustled in. "Alright, alright, take your seats," she ordered in a rather breathless voice. The few remaining stragglers scrambled into place as the teacher sat down, pulled out a pair of reading glasses from her pocket, and put them on. She peered at the papers on her desk. "Now, first thing on the schedule- your reports on the legend of the Latibær Siren are due! Oh yes- how exciting. Pass them up, please, class."

Someone tapped Ella on the shoulder, and she looked around. 

A lanky African-American boy sat in the desk next to her, grinning amiably. He wore layered shirts and a complicated-looking set of headphones with visor goggles attached, for some reason. He had orange dreadlocks pulled back in a high ponytail, only they weren't long enough to hang down, so instead they stuck straight up from the back of his head. The effect was rather like french fries, or a bouquet of cheddar cheese sticks. 

"Hey," he said. "So you're the new kid, huh?"

"By process of elimination, I would assume so," Ella replied coolly. The boy laughed and slapped his desk. "Man, I like you! You're cool. Hey, you mind passing this up to Bobby so's he can pass it to Ms. B?"

He proffered a stack of papers. Ella looked at him. "Why don't you pass it to the person in front of you?" she asked. 

The boy shrugged. "Trixie's late-  _again_ ," he said. "An' I don't really wanna get outta my seat and walk all the way to Jill's desk, you know? Besides, uh-" he cleared his throat. " 'S not  _every_ day a pretty girl like you moves into the desk next to ya. Seemed like a good way to, uh- break the ice. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Ella blinked, took the papers and passed them forward. 

The boy proffered his hand. He was wearing black fingerless gloves, and had what looked like an old-school calculator strapped to his wrist. "Name's Pixel," he said. "What's yours?"

Ella gave his hand a brief shake. "Ella," she said. "I'm almost _positive_ that can't be your real name."

Pixel scratched his cheek, embarrassed. "Nah, it's not," he admitted. "It's just- my real name kinda... sucks. Pixel sounds  _way_ cooler, right?"

Ella shrugged. "I suppose," she said. "I once asked my father if I could change my name to Odile. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to think it was as 'cool' as I did." 

Pixel blinked. "Odie?"

"Ohh- _deeeel,_ " Ella corrected him. "The 'black swan' from Tchaikovsky's  _Swan Lake_ _."_

_"_ Ohhhhh," Pixel said. "Oh- _deel_ \- I get it. I remember that story- it's about that princess who turns into a swan and marries a prince?"

"Actually, in the most authentic version, Princess Odette and Prince Siegfried throw themselves into the lake and drown," Ella said. "This breaks the sorcerer's spell on the other swan maidens, and he dies."

Pixel was silent for a moment, then said, "Harsh."

"Indeed," Ella agreed.

There was a tapping from the front of the class, and the teacher spoke. "Pixel- err, new student- pay attention, please, I'm about to take roll."

There were assorted whisperings and gigglings around the classroom, with fingers pointed at the pair. Several children puckered their lips in an exaggerated fashion, and someone wolf-whistled.

The teacher rapped her pointer firmly on the desk. "None of that, please, none of that," she said, flipping open a folder. "Now, when your name is called, please answer with 'here' or 'present' in a loud, clear voice." She cleared her throat. "Charter, Michael?"

"Here," someone from the front of the class chimed up. The teacher beamed, checking off something in the folder with a feather-topped pen. "Excellent! Christian, Amanda?" "Heeeere," someone called. 

"Very good!" the teacher said, checking something off again. "Now- where was I--"

Pixel turned back to Ella, crossing his arms behind his head. "Roll always takes a while, even though we're the only class in the middle school," he informed her. "Ms. B always has to check attendance, like, three times an' cross-reference them with last week's or something. So- where'd you move from?"

"Iowa," Ella told him. Pixel's eyes widened. "Wow! That's, like, super far away from here- isn't that in the middle of nowhere? What was it like?"

Ella thought for a moment. "Lots of corn," she decided. "And too much sun. Additionally, the native Iowans were less than kind to my father, and, by extension, to me."

"Why?" Pixel asked. "You seem pretty chill."

"I suppose it was because my father was never particularly secretive with his orientation," she said, resting her chin on her hands. "Also, he was much more intelligent than they were, and that threatened them."

"Yeah, I get that last part," Pixel agreed, nodding. "People don't really seem to get smart people- not that people aren't all smart in their own way, but if they're like... a different kind of smart, they get kinda freaked out." He paused. "So your dad's, like... not straight?"

"He identifies as gay," Ella said. She looked at him askance. "Why? Do you have objections to that?"

"Me? No way!" Pixel said. "I got two dads- I mean, one of 'em used to be a mom, but he decided that wasn't for him, so he became a dad."

Ella nodded. "Good for him," she said.

The teacher cleared her throat. "Megabytes, Maximilian?"

Pixel groaned and slumped lower in his seat.

"Megabytes, Maximilian?" the teacher repeated. Pixel was now facedown on his desk, groaning.

The teacher sighed, adjusting her glasses. "I  _know_ you don't like your given name, Pixel, but if you don't respond to it, we have to mark you absent. Unfortunately, nicknames don't count as 'chosen names' to the school board. Megabytes, Maximilian?"

"Online," Pixel said muffledly, raising an arm. The teacher checked something off with satisfaction. "Very good, Pixel! Now- Nazari, Mia?"

"Your name is Maximilian?" Ella asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that so bad?"

Pixel raised his head. " 'Cause it sounds like some kinda  _fancyboy!_ " he said frustratedly. "Man, my dad- post-mom dad- read a lotta weird books when he was having me, you know, the kinds with shirtless guys and chicks in flowy dresses on the cover? They all have fancy people and dudes in puffy shirts and ladies who have to lie down all the time in 'em? He read it and thought it sounded  _sophisticated._ But I- I actually downloaded a copy of the book he got it from, and  _man_ -" he pulled a face- "I just don't know what he was  _THINKING_ _!_ "

"So- your father named you after a character in a  _bodice ripper_?" Ella asked. Pixel put his head down on the desk again. "Yeah," he said. "It's embarrassing."

Ella smiled. "Oh, wait until you hear  _my_ surname."

Pixel peeked out at her from under his arm. "Why, is it bad?"

"It's positively  _rotten_ ," she said, smile widening. Pixel perked up. "Hey- you're  _smiling!_ "

"Yes?" Ella said. "Why does that warrant a remark?"

Pixel shrugged. "Well- you haven't cracked a smile this whole time," he said. "You've been keeping a straight face- you actually kinda remind me of Wednesday Addams."

Ella brushed a pigtail over her shoulder. "That's one of my and father's  _favorite_ shows," she said proudly. 

"Man, I think I like your dad already!" Pixel grinned. "Can I come over to your house sometime?"

"I suppose... after we've unpacked a bit," she told him. 

She paused and furrowed her brow. "Wait. Are we..."

"What?" Pixel asked.

"Are we...  _friends_ now?" Ella asked, confused.

Pixel blinked. "I- I  _guess_ so?"

Ella was silent for a moment. "I've never.... really had a friend before," she said quietly.

Pixel's eyes widened. "Whoa,  _really?!_ Then- am I your first friend? That's so  _cool!_ "

 He extended his hand again. "Put 'er there, pal!"

Ella hesitated, then shook it, with significantly more enthusiasm this time. She smiled.

The teacher cleared her throat again. "Rotten, Ella?"

Ella looked up. "Present," she said.

Kids started snickering again. Someone whispered, " _Rottenella?!_ "

The teacher rapped her pointer on the desk again. "Now, children, children- settle down- we mustn't make fun."

The snickering and whispering grew louder. "Rotten _ella!_ " someone else giggled. A group of boys by the window began to sing, " _Rottenella, Rottenella, Rottenella, Rottenella-"_ to the tune of a song from the animated  _Cinderella,_ and the laughter grew from silent to positively raucous.

_"CHILDREN!_ " The teacher snapped. There was immediate silence. She frowned at all of them over her glasses. "Really, I'm appalled at you! You ought to know better! I'll be sure to have a phone call with  _each and every one_ of your mothers this evening!"

The class erupted into protests. "But Ms.  _Busybodyyyy!!!_ " "No, please  _DON'T_ -" "My mom's gonna FLIP!"

"No, that's quite enough," Ms. Busybody announced. "You clearly need a good talking-to to your mothers about your behavior!" 

She peered back down at the attendance folder. "Now, where was I- ah, yes. Troubleby, Trixie?"

Silence.

Pixel leaned over. "Man, I'm sorry about that," he muttered. "Ms. B  _means_ well, but- ya know- by callin' everybody's moms, it's kinda just gonna make 'em..." he waved his hands vaguely... " _not like you_ more."

"It's fine," Ella replied. "I'm used to it. Besides-" she smiled at him- "now I actually have a friend. Right?"

Pixel looked down, sheepish. "Yeah, I guess," he said.

"Troubleby, Trixie?" Ms. Busybody repeated. She looked around and sighed. "Late as usual... well, I suppose I'll just have to mark her absent again--"

There was the sound of approaching footsteps. The door slammed open, and a girl in a red jacket burst in. 

"Sorry I'm-  _late_ \- Bessie!" she gasped, making her way towards the empty desk in front of Pixel. "My grandpa... was yellin' at this new guy by the siren's statue... and then he had to leave the apples..."

She collapsed into her chair and leaned back, resting her head on Pixel's desk. 

" _HEY!_ " Pixel protested. "Get off my desk, Trixie!" 

"No way, nerdboy," Trixie replied, pulling a lollipop out of her jacket pocket, unwrapping it, and popping it into her mouth. She turned her head, noticed Ella, and perked up. "Hey- new kid!"

Ms. Busybody cleared her throat. "Now, now, Trixie- you'll have time for socializing on the playground! Recess is in half an hour, children, but until then, let's go over our  _siren_ projects."

She lifted the stack of papers she had collected from the class.

Someone raised their hand, and she looked up. "Oh! Yes, Amanda, dear?"

"Ms. Busybody, you forgot about Stingy," Amanda lisped. Ms. Busybody clasped a hand to her face. "Oh dear me! How could I?" She reopened the attendance folder. "Wantington, Joshua the Third?"

No response.

"Ah well," she sighed. "I suppose he's at his father's factory again... Now who wants to volunteer to read their siren report first?"

* * *

 

At recess, the kids streamed out of the doors and swarmed onto the playground equipment. Ella encamped herself underneath the least crowded slide and sat, ignoring the wood chips that dug into her legs as well as the occasional mutter of " _Rottenella_ " that would drift from above.

When the wood chips were actually starting to annoy her, Trixie's upside-down face popped into view. "Yo, Rottenella!" she laughed, swinging herself down and sliding in next to Ella. "What's up?"

"The sky," Ella told her. Trixie laughed. "Ha! I can see why Pixel likes ya!" She pulled the naked lollipop stick out of her mouth and drove it into the ground like a spear. "So why are you hiding down here?"

"I'm not  _hiding_ ," Ella said. "I just... like it down here."

Trixie shrugged. "That's cool," she replied. "Hey, you want any candy?" She pulled a handful of dollar store sweets out of her pocket and proffered it. 

Ella hesitated, then took a sweet-and-sour taffy and two purple lollipops. She eyed Trixie's pockets, which were all bulging with candy. "Why do you have so much candy?" she asked. 

Trixie popped a handful of fruit-shaped sugar granules into her mouth and shrugged again. "  'S good," she replied. 

There was a pause while they chewed. Trixie pulled her lollipop stick spear out of the ground and started raking the ground with it, tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Ella looked at her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Trixie looked up. "Oh- I'm looking for some cool stuff," she replied. Ella raised an eyebrow. "Like what, insects and such?" She wasn't afraid of insects- sometimes they could be quite interesting- but she was wearing her favorite tights, and didn't want to get any slime or dirt on them.

Trixie shook her head. "Nah, nah- or at least, not right  _now._ " She rooted around in the hole with her hands. "I'm lookin' for stuff people dropped- you know, coins, little toys, jewelry. Even cool rocks."

She pulled out a small rock, wiped it on her shirt, held it up to her eye like a jeweler, then tossed it away.

Ella was intrigued. "Do you collect them?" she asked. 

"Nope- at least, not really. But I have a friend who does." Trixie rummaged around in the small hole some more, then started crawling around on her hands and knees, running her hands over the wood chips. 

"I thought all the children in Latibær went to this school," Ella said, now following Trixie, albeit more carefully, because of her tights. "Do they go to the high school? Or are they an adult?"

"No, she's a kid," Trixie replied. "But I guess you could say she's kinda... special." She looked over and perked up. "Ooh! Ella, what's that over by your knee?"

Ella looked down and saw a bit of neon orange peeking out from beneath the wood chips. She brushed them aside and pulled out the object.

"HA! _"_ Trixie cackled, snatching it out of Ella's hands. "Oh man, she's gonna get a  _kick_ outta this..."

The object was a mermaid about the length of a pinkie finger, cast out of bright orange plastic. Its features were about as detailed as the average gummy bear, but the flowing hair and the scales were still clearly visible.

Trixie wiped it on her shirt and stuck it in her pocket. "Nice find, Rottenella!" she grinned. Then she frowned. "Wait, are you okay with being called that?"

Ella hesitated. "...Maybe," she said eventually. "I haven't decided yet."

"Okay!" Trixie shrugged. "Then I guess I'll just keep calling you that until you make up your mind. Hey, wanna help me find more stuff?"

"Alright," Ella said. 

"Cool!" Trixie grinned. "Hey, let's try to find something  _really_ shiny- her little brother  _loves_ shiny stuff."

Together, they crawled out from beneath the slide. "This friend of yours sounds quite interesting," Ella said as they walked around, eyes on the ground for anything that stood out. "I think I'd like to meet her."

Trixie stopped, put her hand to her chin and squinted thoughtfully at Ella. "Hmmm," she said. 

Ella looked down at herself. "What?" she asked.

"I  _can't_ tell if you're a  _snitch_ or not," Trixie said slowly. "I don't wanna introduce her to anybody who's a  _snitch._ " She bent forward so her nose was almost touching Ella's. "Are you a  _snitch_ , Rottenella?"

Ella squinted back at her. "Is your friend dangerous?"

"No," Trixie said.

"Are you doing anything dangerous together?"

"No," Trixie said again. 

"Then no,"  Ella said. "I'm not a snitch."

Trixie clapped her on the shoulder happily. "Sweet! I  _knew_ you'd come through, Rottenella!" 

"Please don't touch me," Ella said. Trixie drew back. "Whoops- sorry."

"But... thank you," Ella continued, looking at the ground. 

Trixie cocked her head. "For what?"

Ella continued looking at the ground. "I've.... _never been included in a secret before_ ," she mumbled. 

Trixie laughed. "Ah, don't sweat it, R.E.! The more the merrier, or something! As long as they ain't a  _snitch._ C'mon, let's look for more shiny stuff and I can tell you a little about her. Not  _too_ much, though, 'cause it'd ruin the surprise. And I  _love_ surprises!"

The girls set off across the playground again, scanning the ground for anything that glittered. 

Trixie moved a little closer to the other girl, lowering her voice. "So.... what do  _you_ know about the Latibær Siren?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok well i've been fighting with these damn notes for what feels like forever and hopefully there will be only one now  
> basically hell yeah i'm gonna update this, esp if all you folks keep leaving kudos/super sweet comments like wow thank you so much omg  
> next chapter: a lot of things happen and i get to introduce the antagonist, who i actually can't decide if i should dig up somebody from the stage plays (and before you ask it is NOT the obvious choice) or just say 'screw it' and slap in an oc like i did with trixie's grandpa


	2. Hey to the Starboard, Heave Ho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie meets his employer and makes some new friends. The Latibær SuperSecret Club is formed. There are nets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG you guys!! thank you sooooo much for all the super nice comments/New Years wishes!! I'm really glad you all like Ella's characterization since I had a little bit of trouble deciding which direction I wanted to go with her...  
> Also, I accidentally posted the draft before it was ready but deleted it as fast as I could, I really hope nobody saw that oops  
> If any of Robbie's Icelandic speech is inaccurate, I'm sorry, I'm using Google Translate and we all know how good that application is.  
> I seem to have a habit of starting off okay with proofreading and editing, but by the time I get past the halfway point, I just give up. Ah well.  
> Anyway, here's chapter 2! On with the show!

At the beginning of the day, Robbie had had some expectations about what his new position would entail.

None of them involved getting accosted by three overly friendly men who, due to some kind of bizarre cosmic coincidence, all strongly resembled him.

One of them (he wasn't quite sure which) was shaking his hand enthusiastically. "It sure is nice to meet ya, Mr. Wotten," he was saying in a Brooklyn accent, lisping his _r_ s. "It's weally great of ya to come, weally great."

Robbie wrenched his hand out of the other man's grip and stumbled backwards a few steps. He regained his bearings, wiping his hand on his sweater. "Sure, sure," he said, "whatever. Now- do you know where the robotics lab--"

"I'm Bobby," the man persisted. "And I'm Tobby," another man- a little shorter than the first- said. "Hi." He pointed at the third man, who hadn't said a word. "An' that's Flobby."

Flobby waved.

 

"Flobby don't talk none," the first one- Bobby?- explained. "But 'e's got a big whistle, though."

Flobby held up a large red whistle on a lanyard and pointed to it, jumping up and down excitedly.

"That's wonderful," Robbie said flatly. "Now, if I could just- speak to whoever's in charge around here--"

The shorter man- Tobby- smacked Bobby on the shoulder. "Bobby!" he hissed. "We forgot ta tell 'im about the  _thing!_ "

Bobby looked around, blinking. "What 'thing'?"

Tobby flailed his hands. "The, uh.. The, uh....  _OH!_  The thing wit' Mister Wantington!"

Bobby slapped his forehead. " _OHHH!_  Of  _course!_  The change in the  _schedule!_ " 

Robbie looked between them confusedly. "What? What schedule?"

 "Don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Rotten," Bobby said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, you two!" he ordered, and Tobby hurried over, placing his hand on Robbie's other shoulder.

 

"Hey-  _HEY!_ " Robbie protested as they started to herd him across the foyer. "What are you doing?! Get _off!_ " 

"No can do, Mr. Rotten," Tobby said, increasing the pace. "We gotta get you on the boat before Mr. Wantington gets impatient." 

Bobby nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Mr. Wantington likes everything punctual and shipshape." His eyes widened, and he turned to Tobby, grinning. "Didja hear  _that_ , Tobby? Shipshape! Ha!"

Tobby snickered. "Heh heh! That's funny, Bobby- real funny."

With Flobby trailing behind them, they marched a protesting Robbie through a large steel door.

* * *

 The three men herded Robbie through the innards of the building, across a web of catwalks, and down a very long flight of stairs. 

"Where are we going?" Robbie demanded, wrenching his arms from Bobby and Tobby's grips. 

"To see Mr. Wantington, o' course," Tobby told him. Robbie scoffed. "Yeah, right," he muttered. "As if the owner of a huge fishing company like this one would be caught  _dead_  in  _this_  smelly little town--  _ACK!_ "

His foot caught on the edge of a step, and he tumbled head-over-heels down the stairs. Luckily, there were only about five left, but when he reached the bottom, he was sore nonetheless, and his head was spinning. 

 

"Whoaaa," Bobby said, hurrying down and pulling him into a sitting position. "You okay, Mr. Wotten?!"

Robbie glowered at him- or at least where he thought he was, since he was seeing double at the moment. "No," he growled. 

"Oh gosh, I'm sowwy," Bobby apologized. "Do you needta lie down for a minute, or--"

"NO!" Robbie shouted. "Help me up, help me up, come on..."

"Okay," Bobby said, grasping his arm. "Hey- Tobby, Flobby, come an' help me get Mr. Wotten back on 'is feet!"

 

The other two hurried over. Flobby seized Robbie's other arm, and Tobby grabbed him under the armpits. "Okay, on three," Bobby told them. "One.. two... two-an'-a-half..."

_"WILL YOU JUST GO ALREADY!_ " Robbie snapped. "Okay, okay!" Bobby said, bending his knees. "Here we go--"

They lifted Robbie back onto his feet with surprising precision. Robbie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head until his ears stopped ringing. 

Flobby started brushing off the front of his sweater, and Robbie shooed him away. "Get _off,_ " he ordered.

He looked around. "Where are we?"

 "Why don'tcha see for yourself?" Tobby asked, reaching forward and opening another steel door.

Sunlight flooded in, and Robbie squinted, shielding his eyes. "What the..." he muttered under his breath.

 

"Ah,  _there_ he is!" Someone said jovially. "The man of the hour!"

When Robbie's eyes adjusted, he saw he was standing in a small port. Several large warehouses blocked it off from the rest of the town, effectively hiding it from view.

 A large fishing boat was tethered by one of the docks. A blocky man in a yellow flannel shirt, canvas pants and rubber boots, with graying brown hair and a short beard, hurried down the gangplank. Reaching Robbie, he clapped him on the shoulder, seized his hand with his other one and shook it vigorously.

"Good to see you, man, good to see you!" He said, beaming. "Joshua Wantington Junior, nice to finally meet you! We were beginning to think you weren't showing up! Ha ha!" 

When he finally let go, Robbie's hand and arm ached, and he was wobbling a bit.  "M-Mr. Wantington!" he gasped. "I- I had no  _idea_  you were  _actually..._  I- I'm  _so sorry_  for being late... I had to get my daughter to school, and the bus took a detour..."

"Oh, it's no problem, no problem at all!" Mr. Wantington said, putting an arm around Robbie and pulling him towards the boat. "Boys! Come and meet Mr. Robert G. Rotten, the newest crew member on our little pet project!"

 

Mr. Wantington released Robbie's shoulders and ushered him towards the gangplank. "Come aboard, Mr. Rotten, come aboard!" he smiled. "We have so much to talk about!" 

"What?" Robbie asked nervously. "No- no no no, I mean, no offense, but I don't do very well on boats, and..."

" _Nonsense_ , man!" Mr. Wantington laughed. "Why,  _anyone_  can get their sea legs if they try!"

He managed to get Robbie up the gangplank. Oilcoat-clad crewmen bustled about the deck, pulling ropes and towing nets. A young boy in a yellow vest, matching shorts, and a navy coat stood by the railing, issuing commands.

"That should go over there," he said, pointing at a crewman carrying a barrel. "And be careful with my nets," he called to someone else. "Remember, they're very important--"

"Ah, Joshua!" Mr. Wantington cried happily, going up to him and engulfing him in a hug. "How's my little captain today!?"

"Ack! Dad-" he protested. "I can't  _breathe!_ "

Mr. Wantington let go of the boy and turned them around to face Robbie. "Mr. Rotten, this is my son, Joshua. Joshua, say hello to Mr. Rotten, the new robotics engineer!"

  

The boy, who looked about Ella's age, looked up at Robbie, arms crossed. "...I thought you'd be cooler," he said matter-of-factly.

Robbie spread his hands awkardly. "...Sorry?"

He shrugged. "It's okay," he replied, sticking out his hand. "I'm Joshua Wantington the third- but you can call me Stingy."

Robbie shook the proffered hand gingerly. "...Nice to meet you, Stinky," he said.

"It's  _Stingy_ ," Stingy snapped. 

"Right, sorry- Stingy." 

 

"So," Stingy continued. "What kind of robots are you gonna make me?"

Robbie blinked. "... _You?_ "

"Oops- I meant  _us_ ," Stingy said hurriedly. "My father's company, that is." 

Robbie shrugged. "No idea," he admitted. 

"Can you make me a robot bird?" Stingy asked. "Benjamin Franklin needs a friend, but she doesn't like sharing her food, and robots don't need to eat. Hey, you wanna see a picture of Benjamin Franklin?"

He pulled a smartphone out of his vest, swiped the screen, and held it up for Robbie to see. It was a picture of a blue-and-yellow parakeet sitting on a pink piggy bank. 

"She's cute, right?" Stingy asked excitedly. "And that's Piggy-" he pointed at the piggy bank- "he's my piggy bank. They're best friends, of course, but Piggy's just a piggy bank, and Benjamin Franklin needs a friend that can chirp and preen and cuddle-"

 

"Ready to cast off, sir," a smooth voice said.

A gaunt, gray-haired man with a chevron mustache emerged from behind the cabin and walked towards them. He wore an immaculate captain's uniform complete with cap, and walked with a slight limp. He was the very picture of an intelligent, no-nonsense sea captain.

That effect was only slightly marred by the large, scrawny white rooster perched on his shoulder.

Stingy took one look at the man and scurried out of the way. Hiding behind a crate, he stuck his tongue out at the man's back.

"Ah, Admiral!" Mr. Wantington said excitedly. "And Hannin too! Wonderful!" 

He hurried forward. "Admiral Ableson, meet Mr. Robert Rotten." He pointed at Robbie, who gave an awkward little wave.

"Charmed," Admiral Ableson said flatly. He stalked forward and extended his hand. Robbie, feeling thoroughly sick of handshakes, grasped it. It was bony and cold, but strong in a sinewy sort of way.

The rooster turned its head sideways and stared at Robbie out of one eye. For a bird that had a reputation for being fearful, it exuded a rather baleful air. Robbie did his best to look at the Admiral instead, but was finding it difficult.

 

"Welcome to Latibær, Mr. Rotten," the Admiral said. "I must admit, for a man of your glowing recommendations, I expected you to be more punctual.

His left eye was clouded over. A spiderweb of thin scars snaked across his eyelid, up to his hairline and down to his cheekbone. The remaining eye was a vibrant green, like the scales of an exotic snake. 

"Sorry," Robbie muttered. The rooster bobbed its head around, looking this way and that and ruffling its feathers.

Admiral Ableson turned away from Robbie and walked over to Mr. Wantington. "May I speak with you for a moment, sir?" he asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

Mr. Wantington blinked. "Of course!" he smiled. "What's on your mind, my friend?"

The Admiral led him a little ways away, muttering in his ear.

 

Something tugged on Robbie's pants leg, and he looked down. 

Stingy looked up at him, motioning him to get closer. " _Psst,"_ he hissed. "Come down here, robot guy- I wanna tell you something important."

 Robbie bent over, and Stingy stood on his tiptoes and muttered in his ear. "That guy is bad news," he informed him. "Be careful."

Robbie looked at him. "Who- your father?"

_"NO!_ " Stingy snapped. "Admiral Creepy. He's _up_ to something- I can tell."

Robbie looked at him. "Really? 'Cause he just seems uptight to me- though I _could_ see why you'd think that." He paused. "Is it the chicken? It's the chicken, isn't it. Or maybe the eye..."

"Uh,  _I've_ lived here longer than  _you_ have," Stingy told him, "and he's  _definitely_ got some kind of scheme going on."

He pointed off the starboard side. "You see that red blinky light over there?"

Robbie looked. Sure enough, partially hidden in the fog, was a blinking red light. He nodded.

 

"It was the Admiral's idea to put those out there. He  _says_ they're just for safety, but my friend Pixel says they're electronic. He can't figure out how to hack into them- which is already pretty weird, 'cause Pixel can hack  _anything._ "

Robbie blinked. "Isn't that illegal?"

Stingy scowled. "That's not the  _point!_ " he snapped. "If they were  _really_ just to keep boats from crashing into rocks and stuff, why aren't they  _near_ any actual rocks? And it's already suspicious that it was Admiral Chicken's idea to put them out there." He paused. "It was  _his_ idea to get  _you_ to come here, too."

Robbie straightened up and looked at him in surprise. "What?!"

_"SSSHH!_ " Stingy ordered, putting his finger to his lips. "Listen- he  _really_ wants you to build him a special robot. I don't know what kind, exactly- but I  _do_ know that it's supposed to go underwater, and go really,  _really_ fast." He inhaled. "And whatever he's planning... what the buoys and the robot are for... I think it  _all_ has something to do with one of my friends."

Robbie was silent for a moment, then said, "I think you watch too many movies, Sticky."

"Hey, I'm being  _serious_ here-" Stingy began, but Mr. Wantington and the Admiral were already walking back over. 

 

"Excellent, excellent- I can see you two are already getting along famously!" Mr. Wantington beamed. He placed a hand on Stingy's head. "Unfortunately, Joshua, I'm afraid it's time for  _you_ to get to school."

"Aw,  _Daaaad,_ " Stingy complained, slumping. "Do I  _have_ to? I wanted to stay on the ship and play _pirates!_ "

Admiral Ableson appeared behind him, and he stiffened. 

"This isn't a pirate ship, Joshua," he said softly. "This is a  _fishing_ vessel. These boats can be very...   _dangerous_ for a young boy."

Seemingly unconsciously, his hand drifted up to his ruined eye.

"Right!" Stingy squeaked. "Time for school! Look at me, going to school! See you later, Dad!"

He scurried off.

 

"Have a good day, Joshua!" Mr. Wantington called after him, then turned back to Admiral Ableson. "Admiral, are we ready to set sail?"

Admiral Ableson nodded. "Waiting for your command, sir," he said. 

"Very well!" Mr. Wantington grinned, planting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. He pointed at Bobby, Flobby and Tobby, who were messing around some crates. "You three- climb aboard and raise the gangplank!"

They jumped to attention and saluted. "Yes sir, Mr. Wantington, sir!" Tobby said. "Right away!"

They scrambled over each other onto the ship, and started fumbling with the gangplank.

 

"Hey- hey, wait," Robbie protested. "Shouldn't I get off the boat? I mean, I'm not a fisherman or sailor or whatever, I'm an  _engineer_ , and I get seasick, and..."

Mr. Wantington came over and slapped him on the back. "Relax, Mr. Rotten!" he assured him. "I'm perfectly aware of your talents- which is why I'm bringing you along!"

Putting his arm around Robbie's shoulder, he gestured to the horizon with the other one. "I want  _you_  to love this company, and this town, like I do," he explained. "You're a part of our family now- the Whale Of A Catch family!"

"Uh... thanks," Robbie muttered. 

Mr. Wantington continued. "And so, Robert- can I call you Robert?- you're going to go sailing with me!"

Robbie slumped. "There's no way I'm going to get out of this, is there?"

Mr. Wantington patted his shoulder. "I'm afraid not," he chuckled. 

 

A loud, long horn sounded, and the engine juddered to life. The boat slowly began to back out of the harbor. Robbie eyed the shrinking dock, wondering if he could still make the jump, but before he could make up his mind, they were too far away. 

The white rooster on Admiral Ableson's shoulder extended its neck and let out a rusty crow. The boat was out of the harbor, chugging steadily past the town and towards open water.

"Oh, we're going to have so much  _fun_  together!" Mr. Wantington said happily, squeezing Robbie's shoulders. "I just _love_ being out on the water, don't you?"

Robbie, already feeling sick, clutched his stomach and groaned.

* * *

  "So you're a ballerina?" Trixie asked, resting her cheek on her hand and pointing at Ella with her plastic fork. "That's cool!"

She stabbed a rubbery meatball with the fork and popped it into her mouth.

Ella shuddered. "I don't understand how you can even  _eat_  this," she said. "It's absolutely disgusting."

Pixel, seated next to her, shrugged. "Yeah, it  _is_  pretty gross," he agreed, popping open a bag of Doritos. "All I eat is the chips."

Ella surveyed her own tray. The school-issued lunch consisted of a large scoop of Spaghettios, one bag of chips and another of apple slices, and a carton of milk. She scrunched up her face in distaste. 

 

 "What's being a ballerina like?" Trixie continued, mouth half-full of meatball. She swallowed. "I heard it was really hard?"

Ella nodded. "It  _is_ quite difficult," she agreed. "But very rewarding."

Pixel looked between them. "Wow, really? I thought it was easy! I mean, it always looks easy."

Ella frowned at him. "It takes an  _inhuman_ amount of effort to maintain that illusion," she told him. "And it's dangerous- if you're not careful, you can get injured very easily."

"Yeesh," Pixel said, putting his hands up defensively. "Sorry, sorry. I had no idea!"

"Have you been in any plays before?" Trixie asked curiously. 

"I've performed as a cygnet in  _Swan Lake,_ a peasant in  _The Sleeping Beauty,_ and a gingerbread child in  _The Nutcracker Suite_ ," Ella told her. "But my favorite role was when I got to perform  _The Waltz of the Doll_ from  _Coppelia_ in a junior exhibition." 

 " _Wow!_ " Trixie said enthusiastically. "I don't know what  _any_ of those words meant!"

 

"I still know most of the steps by heart," Ella told her. "I'm going to check out the local dance studio this afternoon- I could show you if you'd like."

Pixel perked up. "Sure!" he said. "I've never seen a real dancer up close before. Hey, can you stand on your tiptoes like they do?"

"If you mean can I go  _en pointe_ , then yes," Ella replied. "I actually got my toe shoes a year early." A note of pride entered her voice. "My instructor said I wouldn't be able to do it."

"That's  _awesome!_ " Pixel said. "Sure, I'll come with you!"

"Hey, wait a second!" Trixie protested. "What about the  _thing_  we were gonna do after school?"

"Oh- right," Ella said. "That. Well, I suppose I could go tomorrow." She frowned. "It's just I haven't had the time to practice as much as I'd have liked during the move..."

 

"What  _thing_?" Pixel asked Trixie. Trixie motioned him closer and whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened. "Whoa,  _really?!_ Are you  _sure?_ "

Trixie leaned back, crossing her arms. "Of  _course_ I'm sure!" she grinned. "Rottenella ain't no snitch! Right, R.E.?"

Ella shook her head.

Pixel put his finger on his chin. "Ehhhhh, I dunno," he said slowly. "I mean, when Stingy found out,  _he_ almost blew the whole thing wide open..."

"Yeah, but Ella's not  _Stingy!_ " Trixie protested, gesturing to Ella. "She's  _totally_ cool! And anyway, we need more  _girls_ in the club."

 

 Ella looked from Pixel to Trixie. "What club?" she asked.

Trixie leaned forward, and motioned for Pixel to do the same. After a moment, he complied. Trixie beckoned, and Ella leaned forward too.

Trixie cupped her hand to her mouth. "It's not exactly a  _real_  club," she whispered. "It's more like- we all know the same thing-  _together._ "

"I guess it  _is_  kinda like a club, then," Pixel said. "We have, like, meetings and stuff. Sort of. Well, actually we just hang out."

"And play games and eat  _candy!_ " Trixie grinned. "So it's like a  _secret_  club! For keeping  _secrets!_ "

 

"So what  _is_  the secret?" Ella asked.

Trixie shook her head. "We can't tell you that  _now,_ " she chided. "It'll spoil the surprise- and anyway when Stingy accidentally learned it, he almost blabbed to the _whole cafeteria."_  She looked at Pixel. "It's a good thing you figured out how to cut off the power remotely, Pixel. We  _really_  needed a distraction."

 Pixel grinned, leaning back, putting his feet up on the table, and crossing his arms behind his head. "No problem, Trixie!" he said. "It was noth-  _ACK!_ "

He tumbled backwards off the bench, having forgetting that to lean back with one's feet on a table, one needs something to lean against.

Trixie shrieked with laughter, clutching her stomach.  _"HA HA!_ Pixel, that was  _PRICELESS!_ "

 

Pixel sat up, rubbing his head. " _Real_ funny, Trixie," he grumbled. "Owww..."

"What the heck is going on over here?" a somewhat nasally voice demanded. "Pixel, what are you doing on the floor? And who is that sitting on  _my_ side of the table?"

"Whoa, hey!" he said, perking up. "Speak of the rich kid- it's Stingy!"

A short, brown-haired boy in a yellow vest and shorts stood above Pixel, arms crossed.

"Heyyy,  _Stingy!_ " Trixie laughed, getting up and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Good to see you, man!"

 

"Hey!" Pixel said, waving. "How's it going? Why weren't you at school today, Stingy?"

 

Stingy shrugged. "My father wanted me to meet this robot guy he hired," he said. "Or, rather, that  _Admiral Chickenpants_ hired." He wrinkled his nose. 

Ella looked up. "Do you mean a robotics engineer?" she asked. Stingy looked askance at her. "Maybe," he said. "And who the heck are you?"

She got up and moved around the table. "Ella Rotten," she said, extending her hand. "I believe you were introduced to my father."

Stingy shook her hand. "New kid, huh?" he asked. "Nice to meet you- but you were sitting on  _my_ bench."

Ella frowned. "The whole bench?"

 

Trixie smacked Stingy on the back of the head. "Aw, lay  _off_ , Stingy!" she scolded. "It's not  _your_ bench- it belongs to the  _school._ "

"Whose funding comes directly from my  _father,_ " Stingy informed her. "So, technically, it  _is_ my bench."

"No it's not," Pixel objected. "It's your  _dad's_ bench, 'cause  _you're_ not the one who paid for it. Your dad did."

Stingy scowled. "Whatever, I just don't want her sitting there! _I_ always sit there!"

"I can move," Ella offered.

"Oh no you don't," Trixie told her. "Ella's cool, Stingy-  _and_ she's  _our_ friend now." She leaned closer to Stingy and put a hand to his ear. "We're gonna let her join the  _club!_ " she whispered excitedly.

 

_"WHAT?!"_ Stingy shrieked loudly, inciting startled looks from the rest of the cafeteria.  _"NO!_ You  _CAN'T_ just let some  _STRANGER_ into  _MY_ club without _CONSULTING_  me!"

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Okay, first, it's not  _your_ club- it's  _all_ of ours. Second, it's not even an _official_ club. And third, she's not a stranger- she's me an' Pixel's friend. Right, Pixel?"

"Right!" Pixel agreed, nodding.

"See? She's cool," Trixie said. "She's not a snitch or anything, like  _someone_ almost was."

She raised an eyebrow significantly at him.

Stingy spluttered.  _"_ Okay, _first_ of all- it was an _ACCIDENT_ \- and it's not SNITCHING if you don't _know_ it's a secret!"

"Sounds like something a  _snitch_ would say," Trixie sniffed. 

"Okay, fine, _whatever,_ " Stingy grumbled. "She can be in the club- but ONLY if she takes the secret oath."

 

Trixie rolled her eyes again. "Okay, okay, Mr. Fussy-pants," she said, turning to Ella.

"You ready, R.E.?" she asked.

"Ready for what?" Ella asked.

"We're gonna make you an  _official_ member of the secret club," Trixie told Ella. "Put your right hand over your heart."

Ella did so. 

"Okay- now raise your left one like this." She held up three fingers in the manner of a Girl Scout. Ella copied the gesture.

Trixie grinned. "Okay, now jump up and down on your left foot and--"

_"TRIXIE!_ " Pixel and Stingy chorused. 

"Okay, o _kay,_ " Trixie complained. "You don't have to do that. But what you  _do_ have to do is repeat after me."

 

She cleared her throat. "I- and here you say your name-"

"I, Ella Rotten," Ella repeated dutifully.

"Solemnly swear to keep this secret no matter  _what._ "

"Solemnly swear to keep this secret no matter what," Ella said.

"And if I ever  _blab_ or  _snitch_ -"

" 'And if I ever blab or snitch'-"

"May I get all my hair pulled out and get eaten alive by a giant octopus."

 

Ella lowered her hands. "Wait,  _what?_ "

"Okay, you're not  _really_ gonna get all your hair pulled out or get eaten by an octopus," Trixie admitted. "But it's just to show how big this secret is. This is  _serious_ stuff here, Rottenella!"

"Alright," Ella said, reassuming her previous position. " 'And if I ever blab or snitch, may I get all my hair pulled out and get eaten alive by a giant octopus.' " She lowered her hands again. "Like that?"

" _YEAH!_ " Trixie cheered, jumping up and pumping her fists in the air. "You're in!"

"Congratulations, Ella!" Pixel said, getting up and shaking her hand. "Welcome to the secret club!"

Stingy sighed begrudgingly. "Yeah, yeah, welcome to the club or whatever..."

 

The school bell rang, and Pixel looked up. "Uh-oh- lunch is almost over."

"Aw,  _what?!_ " Stingy complained. "But I just  _got_ here!"

"Them's the breaks, rich kid!" Pixel grinned. "Here- you can have my Spaghettios." He gestured to his tray.

Stingy shuddered. "Thanks, but I'd rather not," he said.

" _That's_ something we can agree on," Ella said to him.

 

"This is _great_!" Trixie grinned. "This whole thing's starting to feel like a  _real_ club now!"

Ella smiled. "Now I'm  _really_ wondering what this big secret is," she said. "It involves Trixie's mysterious friend, correct?"

Trixie nodded. "Uh-huh!" she agreed. "Oh man, you're totally gonna  _flip!_ "

"Hey, she's  _my_ friend, too," Stingy objected. "And mine," Pixel added.

"And Pixel's," Stingy agreed, nodding. "Just because you  _like_ her doesn't mean you can keep her all to yourself, Trixie."

Trixie spluttered. "I'm not- I don't- we're just  _friends!_ Shut up, Pixel- and it's not like  _YOU_ don't think she's cute, too!"

 

"A- _HA!_ " Pixel yelled, pointing triumphantly. "So you  _do_ think she's cute!"

Trixie shrieked and ran out of the cafeteria, hands over her ears. Pixel and Stingy followed close behind, yelling,  _"CUTE! CUTE! YOU THINK SHE'S CUTE!_"

Ella watched them go for a moment, then snorted with laughter.

"Hey, _wait_!" she called after them, starting to run. "Wait for _ME!_ " 

* * *

 

Robbie was bent over the railing of the fishing boat, gagging and coughing. "Euuuuurgh," he groaned. "I...  _hic_... HATE... the ocean...."

"...I believe the feeling is mutual," a voice said behind him.

Robbie looked around, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Admiral Ableson stood behind him, glaring at him with his good eye.

"Huh?" Robbie said hoarsely.

The Admiral stepped closer, hands behind his back. " _You_  people always treat sailing like some kind of pleasure cruise or vacation," he said coldly. "Thinking you're playing pirates, dumping your stomach contents in the ocean... getting in the way of  _real_  sailors who have a job to do. This boat is a  _fishing_  boat, and I don't appreciate spoiled fat cats-" he jerked his head at Mr. Wantington, who was bustling around near the back of the boat- "or queasy little  _inventors_  taking it for  _joyrides_  around the bay."

 

Robbie swallowed. "S-sorry," he said awkwardly. "If it helps- I didn't really want to come."

Admiral Ableson stepped back and sighed, scratching the rooster's neck. "I know," he admitted sadly. The sudden change of tone almost gave Robbie whiplash, it was so unexpected. "Forgive me for that little outburst, Mr. Rotten."

"No problem," Robbie said awkwardly.

There was silence. The rooster ruffled its neck feathers and clucked softly.

 

Unable to resist any longer, Robbie asked, "Why do you have a chicken on your shoulder?"

 

Admiral Ableson looked at him again. "Hannin is a  _rooster_ ," he said crossly. "He's my companion- and of course his crow keeps the sirens away." Robbie resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  _Again with the sirens. Is EVERYBODY in town this superstitious?_

Admiral Ableson turned to him, clasping his hands behind his back. "Now let me answer your question with one of mine. That accent- it's Icelandic, correct?"

"Yeah," Robbie admitted. "I came here to go to university and just.. never left." 

 

 Admiral Ableson nodded. "Lovely country," he said. "I spent about six months there when I was younger, with my grandmother.  _Hannin,_ you know, is Icelandic for--"

"I  _know_ it means 'rooster', it's my first language," Robbie said irritably. "I  _lived_ there."

Admiral Ableson chuckled- a fairly uncomfortable sound. "Of course, of course- how silly of me. Speaking of which, did you know Latibær was settled by Icelandic immigrants?"

"Yeah, I sort of figured," Robbie replied. "What with the... name and all."

There was a pause. Abruptly, Admiral Ableson said, "You said you have a daughter, Mr. Rotten?"

Robbie nodded. "Yes- Ella. She's eleven."

 

"Good, good," Admiral Ableson said absently. "Now- do you know of the old docks? The ones behind the library?"

"No," Robbie said.

"Well, it's a popular place for the children to play," Admiral Ableson continued. "But if your daughter ever goes there, don't let her go alone- and  _never_  after dark." He stepped closer to Robbie, looming over him- a difficult feat, seeing how Robbie was two inches taller than him. "And if she ever,  _ever_  starts acting strange, or like she's keeping secrets... would you tell me?" 

Robbie swallowed. "Wh-why?" he asked nervously.

Admiral Ableson's good eye glittered. "There are things by those docks that are dangerous to children," he said. "Broken glass, rusty nails... dangerous sea life..."

There was another pause. Robbie could feel sweat forming at his hairline, despite the chill air.

"And as admiral, it's my duty to ensure that all docks and harbors are safe for our citizens," he continued. "If your daughter has seen something...  _dangerous_... then I must take it upon myself to get  _rid_  of it."

He had an odd expression on his face, and his eye practically burned. Robbie nodded hurriedly. "Yes, yes, of course- I'll make sure to tell you, sir. Mr. Admiral. Sir. Yes, sir."

Admiral Ableson cracked a smile. His teeth were long and slightly yellow. "Excellent," he said. "I trust you, as a citizen of this town, will uphold your duty to keep it safe and secure."

He turned and limped away. The chicken's head swiveled around to glare at Robbie, then it, too, turned away, cuddling its neck down into its body.

Robbie wiped his forehead with his sleeve and exhaled in relief.  

 

 

Mr. Wantington, Bobby, Tobby and Flobby were gathered at the stern of the boat. They were standing under a piece of rigging that looked like a metal arch, with a large metal spool at the top. 

"Now pay close attention," Mr. Wantington was saying. "This is important." He turned, cupping his hands to his mouth and bellowing,  _"READY OVER HERE, MATT!_ "

A man at the other end of the boat gave a thumbs-up, grabbed a lever next to him, and pulled back. Squeaking, the large spool began to turn, reeling in a pair of thick cables. 

A pair of rusty carabiners emerged from the water, hooked to the cables. Mr. Wantington held up his hand, and the man at the lever released it, stopping the spool. "Tobby, you take that one," Mr. Wantington ordered, pointing at one of the carabiners. "I'll take this one. Now, when I say  _go_ , I want you to unfasten that hook and pull up the chain, okay? It's heavy, so be careful."

Tobby saluted. "Okay, Mr. Wantington, sir!" he said enthusiastically. "Don't worry, I'll be careful!"

 

When they were in position, Mr. Wantington said, "Okay, one, two, three-  _GO!_ "

They unhooked the chain from the cable and started pulling them up over the side of the boat. 

"Very good, very good!" Mr. Wantington puffed, red in the face. "Now- wrap it around that, over there." He nodded to a piece of metal sticking up from the deck, right next to the railing. "Be careful, and don't let it slip!"

When they had secured the chains, Mr. Wantington signaled to the man by the lever, and the spool started turning again.

Tobby stumbled over to him, wiping his forehead. "Wow, Mr. Wantington," he gasped. "That sure was hard!"

"Do ya think we'll catch anything, Mr. Wantington?" Bobby asked eagerly. Mr. Wantington shrugged. "This  _is_  just a practice cast," he replied. "I mean, we  _might_  catch a few snappers or old boots, but since we're in a bay, there won't be very rich pickings here."

"Aww," Bobby said disappointedly. "Too bad- I  _always_  wanted to catch a  _we_ _ally_  big fish."

 

Mr. Wantington chuckled, slapping him on the back. "Don't worry, Bobby- I'm sure you'll catch a whopper one day!"

"Yeah-  _yeah!_ " Bobby said, eyes sparkling. "I bet I  _will!_  "

" _THAT'S_  the spirit," Mr. Wantington grinned. "Now- who wants to learn how to secure the net when it comes in?"

"Oh, me, me!" Bobby and Tobby chorused, waving their hands. Flobby jumped up and down in the background, smiling hugely.

The spool continued to turn, pulling the cables further and further in.

 

* * *

" _Bing bang diggariggadong, funny words I sing when I am swimming,_ " Stephanie burbled, sliding along the seabed.  _"Bing bang diggariggadong, silly words that can mean anything!_ "

Something glinted in the corner of her vision, and she stopped. "Ooh, what's that?" she said out loud, swimming towards it. 

A miraculously intact glass bottle stuck up out of the sand, catching a dim ray of sunlight. Stephanie gasped, picking it up and turning it in her fingers. "How  _pretty!"_ she said happily. "This would be  _perfect_  to put moonreed flowers in!"

Smiling, she tucked it into the purple drawstring pouch by her side and started swimming again. 

_"Get on up, it's time to dance, yeah,"_  she continued singing.  _"It's so much fun to be flipping our fins..._ "

A muffled thumping echoed through the water, and she looked around. "Huh?"

 

The thumping got louder, accompanied by swishing and mechanical whirring. Stephanie frowned.  _Is that a boat?_   _But humans hardly EVER come out this far THIS early..._

The sound drew closer and closer, and her ears swiveled, trying to pinpoint the exact direction it was coming from. Suddenly, a loud honk echoed down from above, startling her.  _"EEK!_ " she yelped, clapping her hands over her sensitive ears. 

A shadow fell across her, and she looked up to see the hull of a large boat pass across the surface of the water. She quickly sank down, bracing her tail against the sand to steady her in the vessel's wake, still holding her hands over her ears.

Then she heard another sound and frowned, tilting her head. At first she thought it was thunder, but the sun was still shining, so there couldn't have been a storm. When she listened closer, it was like something large and very heavy was scraping across the ocean floor. 

 

She removed her hands from her ears, but the combined noise from the boat's engine and whatever was making the scraping sound was like a blow to her eardrums. She immediately clapped her hands back over her ears again. 

The thunderous scraping noise drew closer. Several fish streamed past her, and she turned to see what they were swimming from.

A massive, funnel-shaped net dragged along the seabed, making a horrible, thunderous screeching sound. Panicked fish flew out of the way, but many were already trapped in the narrow end, thrashing about in obvious terror and pain.

Stephanie froze, her breath caught in her chest. The net rolled along the seabed towards her, and, spurred on by a sudden flash of panic, she darted away, pumping her tail with all her might. 

The wake from the propellers buffeted her about, but she gritted her teeth and swam even harder. She glanced back at the net- and that was her fatal mistake.

 

A fleeing fish smacked her hard in the face. Momentarily stunned, she drifted, head spinning. By the time she regained her senses, it was too late- the net had scooped her up.

Stephanie tried to swim back out, but the boat was going faster than she could swim. She got jammed in the very back of the net, like produce in a mesh bag. The harsh cord dug into her skin, and she cried out.

The net began to rise- slowly at first, but gaining speed. Stephanie grabbed the net and attempted to climb out, but it stopped its ascent suddenly, and the momentum jerked her loose. 

Stephanie started to cry, trying again to climb out. The cords stung her hands and scraped across her scales and stomach, leaving abrasions. The net started rising again, and she barely managed to hang on. 

Her throat and gills ached with exertion, she had rope burns on her palms, and she could feel her tail start to bruise. 

_"Help,_ " she sobbed desperately, voice cracking.  _"HELP!_ Papa-  _somebody- PLEASE!_ "

The net continued rising inexorably towards the surface.

 

* * *

"That's it, that's it!" Mr. Wantington said encouragingly. "Keep steady...  _steady..._ Oh, look, here it comes!"

Robbie, leaning back against the railing, watched with mild interest. The spool was now reeling in the net, and Mr. Wantington was demonstrating how to tend to it while it rolled up. He wasn't exactly sure  _why_ you had to fuss over it when it was being reeled back, but he was sure there was a reason.

"Here-" Mr. Wantington grunted, passing a very large hook on the end of a thick rope to Flobby. "Attach that to that ring on the floor, would you?"

Flobby nodded and crouched down, fumbling with the hook.

"Hey, look!" Bobby said excitedly. "I can see the west a' da net-- hey, wait a second. What in da...?"

 

Tobby looked down as the end of the net dragged itself onto the dock. After a moment, he shrieked and jumped backwards like a startled cat, landing heavily on his butt. 

Mr. Wantington looked over. "What are you two doing?" he asked, puzzled. 

Bobby stuttered, pointing at the net. "There's a... Th-there's a... In the net, there's..."

" _Really_ now," Mr. Wantington sighed, walking over. "Relax, Bobby. Some sea life can look quite startling, but are usually harmless--  _Mother of God._ "

A few fish slipped out of the net and flopped onto the deck, gasping, but nobody made any move to retrieve them or throw them back into the water. 

Bobby continued stuttering, and Mr. Wantington rubbed his hand down his face, apparently at a loss for words. Flobby, having finished with the hook, hurried over to take a look. He gaped and clapped his hands over his mouth dramatically.

 

Something larger than your average fish was thrashing around in the net. Robbie caught a flash of bright pink between the staring mens' legs and heard a familiar sound, one he hardly expected to hear on a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean.

The sound of a crying child.

Without even thinking, his fathering instincts kicked in and he wobbled towards the back of the boat as quickly as he could. 

Reaching the stern, he placed a hand on Mr. Wantington's shoulder to steady himself. He looked down at the thing in the net. "  _Ó góður Guð,"_ he muttered, slipping into Icelandic.

A young girl was tangled in the net, trembling. She had bright pink hair cropped in a bob, and wore a short, pink-and-purple striped top woven out of an iridescent fabric. Her face was flushed and puffy from crying, and she hiccuped, struggling against the mesh that encased her. Her shimmering pink tail, the same color as her hair, thumped frantically against the deck.

Her tail.

She had a _tail._

 

They had caught a  _mermaid._

* * *

 "That's good, that's good," King Íþróttaálfurinn said encouragingly, placing a hand on the small of Ziggy's back. "Now, keep your back straight... Relax your shoulders... Coil your tail..."

Ziggy followed his instructions eagerly. "Like this, Grandpa?!"

"No, lift your chin a little more," Íþró corrected him, tilting his chin upward with his hand. " _There._ Now... gather  _all_ your strength in your tail, and push off as  _hard_ as you can on three. Okay, one... two...  _THREE!_ "

Ziggy flicked his tail as hard as he could, launching himself a good five feet upwards. He drifted back down, red in the face and panting with exertion. "How was that, Grandpa, huh?" he asked excitedly. "Did I do it right?"

Íþróttaálfurinn laughed and ruffled Ziggy's hair fondly. He was an older merman with close-cropped, graying hair, a matching mustache, and eyes and mouth creased with years of laughter. His tail was mustard-gold with streaks of dark burnt orange down the sides, and pale yellow fins. He was muscular, less so than Sportacus, but still noticeably so, and wore a similar vest,  bronze bracers, and a gold circlet . A thin, pale scar slashed through the right side of his lip, and one of his caudal fins was tattered.

"Almost, almost!" he chuckled. "But a little more practice, and soon you'll be able to do  _anything!_ "

_"YAY!_ " Ziggy cheered, pumping his fists. He latched onto Íþró's tail. "Can we try it again, Grandpa? Oh please,  _please?_ "

"Alright, alright," the king laughed, gently prying Ziggy off of his tail. "Now, one more time... Back straight... Shoulders relaxed... gather  _all_ your strength..."

 

Sportacus watched them, smiling, until the head of a serrated spear swished by his head. He ducked just in time, and the knight he was sparring with laughed heartily. "Pay more attention to your  _opponent_ , your highness!" he said. "I thought you said you weren't going to go easy on me this round?"

Sportacus grinned, flipping his trident. "Ah, be careful what you wish for, Felix," he warned jokingly. "I'm not protector of the bay for nothing, you know!"

"Nor am I captain of the guards for nothing," Felix bantered. "I just hope your skills live up to your speech--"

He swung again, and Sportacus caught the spear between the tines of the trident and gave a tug. The spear flew out of Felix's grip, and Sportacus caught it in his other hand. Spinning around, he knocked Felix to the ground with the butt of the trident. He fell heavily to the sand with a grunt.

"You were saying?" Sportacus asked, raising an eyebrow.

Felix groaned and put his hands up. "Alright, alright, I surrender, your highness," he sighed. "Teach  _me_ to question the crown prince..."

 

Sportacus leaned over, grabbed Felix's hand and pulled him upright. "Keep closer guard of your weapon next time, friend," he told him. "Good fight, though, eh?"

Felix grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Ah, but I almost got you with that last swing, didn't I?"

"Almost," Sportacus admitted. Felix pumped his fist in triumph. " _HA!_ Well then, I suppose I'd better keep practicing- if I want to be the only royal guard in decades to disarm a member of the royal family!"

He  saluted and swam away. Sportacus waved back. "Good luck, Felix!" he called. "I'm looking forward to our next match!"

Smiling, he strapped his trident to his back again, then swam across the field and placed the extra spear in a rack. 

" _HEY, PAPA!_ " Ziggy cried from behind him, and he turned. Ziggy was waving furiously at him, and Íþróttaálfurinn floated next to him, arms crossed.

"Come look how high I can jump now, Papa!" Ziggy shouted. "I can go  _really_ high, look!"

 

Sportacus swam over to them, and Ziggy crouched, tensing his tail. "Are you looking, Papa? Are you looking, huh?"

"Yes, I'm watching," Sportacus assured him. Ziggy puffed up his cheeks in concentration. "Okay, here goes..."

He launched himself as high as he could, then drifted back down. 

Sportacus swam forward and caught him in his arms. Ziggy grinned up at him. "How was that?" he asked eagerly. "I went  _really_ high, huh?!"

"Yeah,  _wow!_ " Sportacus agreed earnestly. "That was  _incredible,_ Ziggy!" 

He turned to his father. "You really  _are_ a great teacher, _P_ _abbi."_

"Well, of  _course_ I am!" Íþró laughed. "I taught  _you,_ didn't I?"

He grabbed Sportacus in a headlock and ruffled his hair playfully. Sportacus pushed him away. "Ack!  _P_ _abbi,_ come on... I'm not a guppy anymore."

 

"Ah, you're right," Íþró admitted. Then a mischievous glint came into his eye. "Then _that_ means I've got to enjoy this while I can, doesn't it?!"

Saying this, he seized Sportacus around the waist and lifted both him and Ziggy up, spinning them around.

Ziggy laughed hysterically. " _WHEEEE!_ " he cheered, clinging to Sportacus. "Go FASTER! _FASTER,_ Grandpa!"

Íþróttaálfurinn spun them around a couple more times, then released Sportacus's waist and bent over, panting. "Whoo," he said breathlessly. "I guess  _I'm_ not as young as I used to be, either..."

Ziggy wriggled out of Sportacus's arm and hugged Íþró around the waist. "That's okay, Grandpa," he said, looking up at him. "You're still  _my_ hero!"

Íþró laughed and picked Ziggy up, tossing him up and catching him again. "Ah,  _that's_ my boy!" he laughed. "At least  _someone_ appreciates this old pile of chum around here!"

He brought his face closer to Ziggy's. "But you know, your  _father's_ not all that shabby himself," he said conspiratorially. "I mean, he's no  _me_ back in my heyday--"

 

The brooch on Sportacus's chest began to flash, and he looked down at it, startled. "Someone's in trouble!" he exclaimed. 

"Oh, and speak of the devilfish!" Íþró said. "Barely a moment goes by in Latibær that  _someone_ doesn't get into some sort of mess. Well, who is it this time? Little Beatrice get stuck in the kelp again? Or is it another human who forgot they can't swim?"

Sportacus pushed a latch on the side of the brooch, and it swung open, revealing a glittering white crystal, flashing and making an urgent beeping sound. Pressing his fingertips to it, he closed his eyes, concentrating.

At once, a series of images swam to the forefront of his mind.  _A huge net, dragging along the seabed... A small, pink-haired figure, swimming away frantically.. Getting trapped in the net... Hauled towards the surface..._

His eyes flew open. _"Stephanie,"_ he breathed.

 

"What?" Íþróttaálfurinn demanded. "Stephanie's in trouble?!" He put Ziggy down. "I'm coming with you!"

" _No,_ " Sportacus said. "It's too dangerous." He put his hand on Íþró's shoulder. "You're the  _king-_  the people need you more than they need me."

"But, Sportacus-" Íþró began, but it was too late. Sportacus turned and darted away, pulling the trident off of his back. 

 

As he cut through the water determinedly, he had only one thought on his mind.

_Interspecies relations be damned... if those humans lay so much as a FINGER on my daughter, I'll capsize them all._

* * *

 

The girl-  _mermaid-_ shrank back. Her chest heaved, and a row of slits flapped on either side of her neck. She was shaking like a leaf, and she made a soft noise in the back of her throat, like a wounded animal.

Without even realizing it, Robbie had knelt down. He reached out a hand, and she flinched and snapped at it, revealing a row of sharp teeth. 

Robbie jumped, snatching his hand back, then muttered, " _Ah, til helvítis með það,_ " and reached out again. 

"Hey- it's okay, it's okay," he said softly. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright?"

 

She snapped at him again. Her long ears, like those of a deer's, were pinned flat against the sides of her head, and her pupils dilated. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you- I  _promise,_ " Robbie said. "I just want to help you. Will you let me do that?"  _What am I DOING,_ he thought.  _I don't even know if this thing understands me- or if it's even SENTIENT. Those teeth could probably take my fingers right off..._

There was silence for a moment. The mermaid hiccuped. 

Robbie reached out again, and when she didn't try to bite him, he grabbed the net and attempted to pull it off. " _Fjandinn_ ," he cursed. "How do you get this...  _stupid_ thing off?!"

Some sailors hurried up, their heavy boots clomping along the deck, and the mermaid squeaked and curled up in a ball, covering her head with her hands.

 

"Hey, Mr. Wantington, what's going on?" one of them asked. "Did another seal get stuck in the--  _AUGH!_ "

He stumbled backwards. "What in the name a'  _HEAVEN?!_ "

"Holy  _COW,_ " another one said, taking several steps back and shaking his head. "This can't be happenin'- this- this can't be  _REAL!_ "

Another sailor crossed himself and started muttering the Lord's Prayer. 

"Oh, will you all  _knock that off,_ " Robbie snapped. "If any of you feel like doing something  _productive,_ help me get rid of this  _net_ \- it's practically  _crushing_ her."

 

Someone crouched down next to him and started fumbling with the net. He looked over to see Bobby, and was mildly surprised. He hadn't expected anyone to actually help him free the merchild- especially not someone who seemed so...  _flaky._

"Uhhhh," Bobby said as the mermaid watched them both like a rabbit in a flashlight beam. "I... I  _think_ what ya gotta do is pull  _this_ thing here..."

He pulled something like a drawstring at the end of the net, and several still-wriggling fish, along with the mermaid, slid out onto the deck and lay there, gasping.

Robbie reached out to her, and she slid back, staring at his hand. Quickly he withdrew it, holding both his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he said. "I don't want to hurt you, okay?"

He heard a series of clicks behind him, and turned to see many of the sailors had their phones out. "Wh-  _HEY!_ " he yelled indignantly, getting up and waving his arms. "Don't  _DO_ THAT! Cut it out,  _no_ pictures. Go on, go on, go... batten down the hatches or something. Leave the poor thing alone."

"But this isn't a sailing ship," someone said. Robbie turned and glared in the voice's general direction. "Excuse me, did I  _stutter?!_ " He flapped his arms. "I said  _go._ Go on, shoo. You didn't see anything, got it?"

Awkwardly, the sailors dispersed, with a lot of mutterings and clearing of throats. Finally, only one person still stood, staring at the mermaid on the deck- Admiral Ableson.

 

His face was paper white and somewhat translucent-looking, and his jaw was slack. His eye glittered with a frankly worrying intensity. The chicken, on the other hand, seemed as disinterested as a large bird could be about pretty much anything.

" _Finally_ ," he rasped. "After all these years..."

He took his hat off and held it against his chest, as if in a salute.

Robbie  _really_ didn't like how the Admiral was acting.  "And, uh, what are  _you_ doing, Admiral," he asked flatly. 

Admiral Ableson didn't seem to notice him. "Now they'll  _have_ to believe me," he muttered. "Yes, yes, I'll show them.... I'll show them  _ALL!_ "

He lunged forward. Robbie jumped in front of him, pushing him back. " _HEY!_ " he yelled. "What are you-" 

The chicken fluttered off of the Admiral's shoulder and into Robbie's face, clucking angrily. He shrieked, spitting feathers out of his mouth.

 

"Get out of my  _way,_ you  _STUPID_ LITTLE MAN!" the Admiral shouted, hitting Robbie in the stomach. He groaned, chicken still attacking his face, and the Admiral pushed past him, reaching for the mermaid with clawed hands. 

She tried to slither back into the water, but the Admiral's hand wrapped around the narrow end of her tail. "Get  _BACK_ HERE! _"_ he yelled. 

_"NO!"_  the mermaid cried, thrashing her tail. "Let  _GO-_ you're  _HURTING_ ME!"

 

 Robbie batted the chicken away and dove ungracefully at the Admiral, trying to pull him off of the merchild. "Hey, cut that out!" he ordered. "Let go- let _GO,_  I said--"

"Let  _GO_ of me, you  _FOOL!_ " Admiral Ableson shrieked, flailing his limbs. "You don't know what you're  _DOIN_ _G!_ This will  _FINALLY_ get me  _BACK WHERE I BELONG-_ "

The mermaid tried to wrench the Admiral's hands off of her tail. " _HELP!"_ she begged.  _"HELP-_ GET  _OFF!_ Let  _GO_  of me, PLEASE! _HELP!"_

 

  _"STEPHANIE!_ " 

Robbie looked around for the source of the voice. "What?"

Admiral Ableson looked up, growing even paler. " _No..._ "

_"WHAT?!_ " Robbie demanded again. "Will someone _please_ tell me what the _heck_ is going..."

 

With a mighty surge, something large, blue and wielding a pointy object launched itself out of the water and onto the deck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOP cliffhanger ending booyeah. this was already way later than I was aiming for, so i'm just posting this now cause basically screw it  
> no glanni glæpur for you kids you get this rando and the chicken puppet from GGIL  
> the part where the poor pink bby gets caught in the net was painful to write she's so scared (◕︿◕✿)  
> also i had to do research on how they fish with nets and my youtube recommendations are full of fishing documentaries now i hope you appreciate it  
> it's probably not even accurate either i couldn't figure out what they were doing without, like, a step-by-step process and nobody has thought of doing that for us poor ignorant fanfic writers  
> trying not to write swears is hard, i go directly from a violent, profanity-laden homestuck fic to this, which i'm trying my best to make feel like a pg-rated movie in all aspects except the gay  
> enjoy  
> _(:3」∠)  
> ((also if anybody makes a NOW LOOK AT THIS NET joke i will... probably not do anything actually but it will be in very poor taste))

**Author's Note:**

> ok well i've been fighting with these damn notes for what feels like forever and hopefully there will be only one now  
> basically hell yeah i'm gonna update this, esp if all you folks keep leaving kudos/super sweet comments like wow thank you so much omg  
> next chapter: a lot of things happen and i get to introduce the antagonist, who i actually can't decide if i should dig up somebody from the stage plays (and before you ask it is NOT the obvious choice) or just say 'screw it' and slap in an oc like i did with trixie's grandpa


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